


His Scuffed Ford

by leslie057



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Jancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslie057/pseuds/leslie057
Summary: Just after Season 2, Nancy and Jonathan evaluate the special relationship they have. Who knew the backseat of his scuffed Ford would be where they would reconnect? Inspired by a prompt from @jancystrangerstuff on Tumblr! Send a follow!





	His Scuffed Ford

**Author's Note:**

> Have a new tumblr! Url is @leslie057!!

_December 1st, 1984_

The cobalt hue of late daytime shone down on Hawkins, nice and easy.

Michael Wheeler sat contentedly on a striped sleeper sofa, watching _Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!_ reruns with El, Lucas, and Holly.

Nancy entered, clad in a white turtleneck and jeans, the only color in her outfit being some pale green earrings. Her hair had grown past her shoulders since it was cut, so she had it half up and half down.

"Hey, guys," she greeted joyfully. She approached the couch and took Holly in her arms. "Come, Holl."

Responding to the expected sound of a car, Nancy went outside and walked down to the road.

She waved to Will and Jonathan as they got out, her eyes welcoming. "There they are!" She narrated playfully.

"Hey, Nancy!" Will was quick to speak. Jonathan closed his door carefully before going over to them.

Will started for the house, and Nancy grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, why don't you take Holly in," she suggested as she put the young girl down. "We'll be in in a minute." She gestured between herself and his elder brother.

Will nodded and held Holly's hand, headed for the door.  
  
Nancy watched them for a few seconds before turning, crossing her arms, and saying, "hey" in that captivating way she does.

"Hey," Jonathan offered, reserved and soft spoken.

"Listen, my parents...they're gonna be at work until 8, so if you wanna...do something, I mean...no one would have to know."

He made a confused expression, his jawline becoming more defined.

"Like, not...a _date_ , or anything. Just...we could go to Saint Kenneth's...maybe. It's not so crowded this time of year because of the weather...so they have free ferry rides." She tried to make it sound as if she hadn't thought this over several times.

When he didn't say anything, she decided to keep going. "And, y'know, I know nothing...really feels...settled down yet. But that's the thing! I think it would help clear my head...to-to talk about that stuff. Especially...with, with you."

Strands of his hair were reflecting gold in the last of the sunlight, and his eyes looked very kind.

He then realized it was his turn to say something. "It's alright, Nancy. I'll go with you."

❦

"Louisiana," Nancy called out suddenly as she turned onto the interstate.

"What?"

She motioned to the license plate on the Chevrolet in front of them.

He kept looking at her, appreciating. "I wonder what they're doing here?"

"Driving through us to get somewhere better," she answered solemnly.

The atmosphere changed in an instant. He silently observed the cars outside of his own glossy window, feeling bad for her.

"Nance...c'mon." He rested the side of his face against the seat, looking her way again. She exhaled heavily, and he wished he could help her some way.

"You're still upset, aren't you," he said, but his voice did not go up, so it wasn't a question.

She shrugged. "I'm just...sick of sitting still, y'know? I've been here my whole life. It doesn't feel right anymore. After everything, it still feels...fake. Everyone...they...the _pretending_ hasn't stopped. The pretending is _never_ going to stop."

He knew exactly how she felt about Indiana. She'd told him before. She wasn't planning on staying. She was anxious to leave.

"I know..." His voice was enjoyable and calming. "We're _17,_  Nancy."

"Don't remind me."

"Besides, you can't leave because we'd miss you too much," he unveiled.

She laughed very softly. But then she became serious. "No one would even notice," she established quietly and with emphasis.

It was hard for him to hear things like that from her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"What the _hell_ are you sorry for? Stop being sorry, you haven't done anything."

She hadn't meant to be so harsh.

His feelings weren't hurt. "Nancy, I'm sorry that you _have_ to sit still, is all."

"Oh," She feared she had come off uncaring. "You are?"

"It isn't fair."

"I guess not."

And she drove on for a long time.

"What are we doing, Nancy? Because I don't know," he confessed lowly with a sincerity that made her want to kiss him.

"Me neither," she spoke with an uncertain inflection that made him feel the same way.

"Are you... _sad_? In general, I mean?"

She thought about it. "No, not really. Not when I think about the things I have to be happy about."

"Are you happy?"

She thought about that harder. "Yes, in general. How about you?"

"I think so."

❦

And the teenagers sat next to each other on the Saint Kenneth ferry, almost an hour away from home.

There were only 5 other people there with them. Two septuagenarians, a single mother, her son, and of course the ferryman.

The air was clean, but the water was somewhat roily.

For someone so respectful and withdrawn, Jonathan was very close to her. Maybe it was his way of keeping distance with everyone else.

And for something so understated, it sure felt like a date.

Nancy wished she were holding his hand, but it seemed he wanted to keep it in his pocket.

Her watch read 5PM. The hum of conversation had almost disappeared, so she figured now was a good time to get his attention.

"Jonathan."

He stopped looking at his Converse.

His nose was scarlet, the rest of his face light. She felt just as cold.

"What's gonna happen?" She tested. "What's gonna happen when...when we're _threatened_ again?"

They knew they were going to have to talk about the supernatural stuff at some time.

"If we're lucky, we'll manage to get rescued like we always have." His voice was distant.

She nodded, directing her head the other way. But she quickly moved into him anew.

"What if we _aren't_ so lucky next time?"

He really wanted to have an answer. An answer that made her feel better.

He didn't and was noiseless, so she steadily laid her head on his strong shoulder.

He breathed shakily, feeling like everyone was watching him.

And maybe they were. But it was safe with these strangers. They weren't being judged at all; they were being _admired_.

His hand was still in his pocket, though.

"You're my best friend, Jonathan."

That sounded unusual to him. That sounded _perfect_  to him.

His innocent eyes were fixed on the gray sky as he sounded out "Nancy" in the most pleasant way a person could say something.  
  
But they said nothing else afterward.

❦

They had almost circled back around to the docks.

Nancy didn't know what she had expected to happen that evening, but she was sure that it hadn't.

She knew better than anyone that Jonathan didn't use his voice to express himself, but his actions. Walking instead of talking.

So Nancy wasn't feeling especially daring or brave, but she figured _one of them_ ought to be straightforward.

She slowly lifted her head and held his arm so he would look at her.

"I wish it were just the two of us...in your car together...and close," she whispered so resolutely.

The next few minutes felt endless.

❦

Jonathan and Nancy were nothing shy of a mess as they climbed into the backseat of his scuffed Ford in the parking lot.

He'd had a few old towels on the floorboards for when it got really cold, so Nancy covered the seats with them.

He was leaning against the door, its handle pressing into his shoulders.

She moved to the middle seat, and pulled on him until he was sitting vertically next to her.

Then she climbed back over, straddling him.

He blinked at her, his ear length hair feathery and tousled.

They'd done this only once. He was nervous then, and he was nervous now. Her hands stayed on his jaw in an attempt to help with it.

And this wasn't about her proving anyone wrong or exerting power over another person. This was about two young people who wanted to get _near_ to one another.

They were overwhelmed with ardency. He didn't want her mouth to separate from his unless it meant the kisses were going to his neck.

He enveloped her waist, dedicated to keeping her right against him.

In an extemporaneous fashion, she took his earlobe in between her lips. His head fell to the side, his eyes closed.

Between the fact that Nancy was sucking on his ear sweetly and the way it felt every time her hair would brush him, Jonathan's senses were upwards of stimulated.

It was dim and intimate in the car.

She placed one of her hands against his chest, and she could feel how _fast_ his heart was beating, his ribcage being its only repression.

Nancy got away from him and started to undress, drawing out a whimper from him.

His hands shaking, he pulled off his own sweater, leaving himself in a T-shirt and jeans.

She was a statue in front of him, wearing just a camisole and underwear.

He joined her, getting to his knees, too. She undid his belt as he rubbed his nose against her hair with gentleness.

And minutes later, there was no cloth left in between them.

It was natural and a secret.

❦

It was 6:30 now. Nancy and Jonathan had little time to get home.

They were sitting upright and dressed in the back of the car.

His lanky legs were cramped, but she had her head rested on his arm again, so he didn't care.

The navy sky on the other side of the glass would have looked eerie under different circumstances. In this case it was serene.

"We need to start driving again," he said clearly, apprehensively. It was the first time in an hour he had said something save her name.

"Just a minute," she murmured.

He'd felt this exact way the last time they'd slept together, detached and afraid that it'd meant something divergent to her.

"I'm sorry, Nancy." His voice was vacant as he shifted away from her.

"What're you doing? What's wrong?" She sat up worriedly, putting her weight on one arm.

He briefly ran a hand through his hair. He didn't have the heart to exit the car when she was looking at him like that.

He waited and said, "Are you sure about all of this?"

"About all of what?" She mimicked, clutching his sleeve.

He glanced at her hand that was gripping him, and that was enough of an answer. _Are you sure about us?_

"No," she revealed.

"We, um, shouldn't have...we shouldn't have done this." He stammered, not hiding his insecurity.

"You didn't let me finish," she declared before he could open the car door.

"No, I'm _not_ sure. I'm not sure of anything that's going to happen to us." She gifted him with honesty. "Here's what I know. I am sure...that you are someone...that I can _trust_. After everything, I trust you, Jonathan."

He wore the same expression he had when he was sitting with her while she was on the phone with Mrs. Holland weeks ago.

"Look, this isn't some joke to me, okay? I promise. I know you don't believe it, Jonathan, but you're really...you're really important to me, okay? And you have been for a long time."

And he just kept looking at her.

She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his jaw for the hundredth time that night, it seemed.

"I just-I care about you, Nancy," he tried to explain.

"I know you do." She laughed softly and just slightly. "But I need you to stop being... _scared_...of the idea that you could mean a lot to someone...okay? I can't spell it out for you every time."

He enclosed her middle with his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Thanks, Nance."

"You're welcome." 


End file.
